by Mia Carson
The press would hardly report it. To them, it was just another also-ran failing to make it, but he was so loved and respected in the racing community that everyone he’d invited RSVP’d to this celebration of his career. It only seemed fitting to hold it at the time and place of the race, as well as making sure the multinational guest list would be mostly gathered in the same town at the time.
The night went well. James was constantly occupied by friends, colleagues, and well-wishers. He was monopolized, taking him away from me a bit, but I understood. It was his night. And when he told me he couldn’t bear the thought of being injured again—or worse, putting me and a baby through that—I couldn’t have loved him more. I knew he loved it, but he was getting too old, anyway.
Not only were almost all the riders from this year’s season in attendance, so were past heroes like Mick Doohan, Wayne Gardner, Carl Fogarty, Colin Edwards, and even Eddie Lawson. Their names didn’t mean much to me, but from the way James talked about them, they were clearly a bunch of big deals. Marc Márquez and sweet Sam from Dunlop were at the top table with us, as was the irrepressible little Italian, nine times world champion, Valentino Rossi who, despite his thick accent and having had a few drinks, had taken over compere duties.
It was only me who looked for someone else. I saw Blake—who I invited without telling James—shuffling about on the fringes of the party with his wife, who looked far too pretty to be with a slime ball like him. He was shunned by most of the other guests because, though what he did had not been officially recognized as malicious, word had leaked out and it was a shitty thing to do to another rider. Eventually, I spotted Suzi, too. It had taken some arranging, but she was there as the date of one of the lower level riders. She wore a tight, short, blue-sequined number. Good. I wanted her to look fabulous.
Valentino had been reading tribute cards from people throughout the industry, many of them rude or insulting in a good humored way, and all of them embarrassing James to some extent. Those, coupled with Rossi’s own stories about James’s escapades, all delivered in his over the top accent, had the crowd in stitches.
Finally, he introduced a film reel we’d created, documenting his racing history with pictures and footage. It was projected on a huge screen behind the main table, and I saw James watching from behind his hands, totally mortified by all the fuss made over him.
Then it happened. Near the end of the footage, it suddenly appeared as if the tape had been chewed up. The screen went blank for a second, to groans and boos from the audience, when suddenly, there was a new film on the screen. It was shaky and a little blurred, but you could make out Blake in the back of a car, looking sweaty and gross from the race, and Suzi deliberately putting her head in his lap before bobbing up and down, then reappearing and wiping her mouth.
The screen went black again, and the room sat in stunned silence. Then, there was a slow clap. I looked around and saw James managing to applaud the two lovebirds on the film with his arm still in a sling, a huge and amused smile on his face.
Mrs. Blake stood quickly, threw her glass of champagne over her husband, shouted at him, threw his drink over him, too, then stormed off. Blake paled as he looked around the room, then ran after her to the sound of laughter and thunderous applause. I looked around because I wanted to see the look on Suzi’s face. I couldn’t find her, but a sudden commotion beside me drew my attention. Suzi was running impressively in her heels, screaming swear words as she charged straight at me.
I managed to react in time, getting out of my chair and stepping deftly to one side. She turned and lunged at me again, but I blocked her arms and my fist cracked her squarely on the jaw, putting her down. It happened so fast, none of the racers standing around, in spite of their lightning reflexes, had time to move.
James was instantly by my side, though.
“What the fuck was that? Are you okay?” he asked. I nodded and let him put his arm around me.
Marc picked Suzi up and carried her away with a couple of other guys helping him when she started to lash out and kick. Valentino didn’t miss a beat, quickly presenting me to the crowd as the “Fantastic Ms. Spence, boxing champion of the world!” to laughter and applause.
Sam laid a comforting hand on my shoulder, while James looked me in the eye.
“I can’t believe you did that.” He grinned with unrestrained delight. “There was no need.”
“Maybe not to you,” I told him.
And, as I stared into his handsome face and his deep blue eyes, I knew I was not going to regret choosing him. I knew I was not going to regret facing my fear of commitment. Then, as he laid a gentle, loving hand on my stomach, I knew we were going to be happy together. All three of us.
***
(BONUS BOOK #2)
CHANCE
(A Stepbrother
Romance)
By
Mia Carson
COPYRIGHT © 2016
All Rights Reserved
CHAPTER 1
Claire got out of the cab and looked in horror as Trent, her fiancé, held a woman in his arms and kissed her lovingly on the lips in front of his house. She wanted to run or close her eyes and pretend the man she had been dating since after high school, for three years, was not kissing another woman the day before their wedding. But even the darkness that would come if she closed her eyes was insufficient to rid her confused mind of the event unfolding in front of her.
He stroked the woman’s face and spoke soothingly to her; he was so engrossed in their conversation that he didn’t see Claire until she had seen too much. By the time he did see her, her cheeks were drenched with tears. She remained motionless as he ran towards her.
“Claire, this isn’t...”
She looked up at him, feeling like a zombie. She felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing except the woman who stood uncomfortably a few feet away from them.
“Look, I can explain,” he told her. But there was nothing he could say to make the situation right.
“I wanted to see you one last time before tomorrow,” she said as the tears poured down. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Claire,” he said softly, his eyes pleading with her. “I never meant for this...”
“You’re fucked up, Trent, and you know it. Just fucking leave me alone!” she said as she walked away.
“Claire!” he called after her, but she didn’t stop. “Let me at least give you a ride home.”
“Fuck off,” Claire said, just as she stumbled into an older man on the pavement, but he caught her as she did.
“You okay, ma’am?” the man asked. “Can I help you?”
“I just need a cab,” she sobbed. “Please just get me out of here.”
“This way,” he said as he led her to the yellow and black checkered cab around the corner.
She composed herself long enough to give him her address, but try as she might, she could not get the image of Trent kissing another woman in public out of her mind.
“We’re here,” the cabbie announced a few minutes later as he pulled up to her driveway.
She looked around as if scared. She rummaged in her bag in search of her wallet. “Hang on,” she said as she moved the items in her bag.
“It’s on me,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What?” Her eyes looked dazed as if she were unaware of who she was or what she was doing there.
“The ride. No charge.” He smiled at her and reached for the lock on the door.
Her eyes were wild, almost as if she didn’t understand him. When it registered in her brain that he thought she needed the help, she said, “No, I have money...”
“I know,” he answered. “But this one is on me. And ma’am, any man who makes a woman cry isn’t worth her tears.”
Claire offered him a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“Hope your day gets better,” he said, returning the smile.
She staggered from the car towards the door of the house, dreading what her mother and
best friend, Amy, would say when she announced the wedding was off. She opened the door, and as she closed it behind her and rested against it, she felt as if the weight of a thousand anchors had descended upon her. Her legs weakened and she collapsed to the floor, her back against the door.
“Claire?” she heard her mother, Willow. “Amy!”
“What is it, Mrs. Callahan?” Amy rushed from the kitchen. Amy and Claire had been best friends since middle school, and she had been helping with the final preparations for the next day. Claire had been there earlier, but she had snuck out to see Trent before the big event.
“Call Trent,” Willow said to Amy as she knelt next to Claire on the floor. “Are you okay, honey?”
“No!” Claire managed to say through tears. “Not him.”
“Why not?” Amy asked, her fingers already dialing Trent’s number.
“Don’t call him,” Claire said as she tried to move, but the weight in her mind was enough to keep her motionless.
Willow and Amy looked at Claire. “Why not? I think he should know that you’re sick,” Amy said.
“I’m not sick and there won’t be a wedding,” Claire responded. “It’s over.”
For a few seconds, no one said a word. Willow got on the floor with her daughter and tried to hug her. “It’s normal to get cold feet. We have talked about this. When I married your dad…”
“I don’t have cold feet, Mom,” Claire said to the woman as she got off the floor, pushing her mother away. “I just saw his cheating ass with another woman.”
“What do you mean you saw his cheating ass with another woman?” Amy asked.
But Claire had risen from the floor and was walking toward the kitchen. Willow got off the floor and followed her daughter. “Talk to us, Claire,” Willow said. “Please.”
Claire ignored them as she walked to the kitchen, but they followed closely. She walked to the fridge for a bottle of cold water and sat on a stool next to the kitchen island. She placed the water against her forehead and rested her hand on the countertop. Her mother and friend sat next to her patiently.
Claire tried to grip the edges of the island, but her fingers slipped and slid over the glassy surface. Her knuckles whitened as she stared at the countertop. In a release of rage, she slammed her palms down on it. The two women jumped when she did, and Willow tried to hold her once more. Claire gently pushed her away.
“I’m okay, Mom.”
“What happened?” her mom asked gently. “You don’t have to say anything right now if you don’t want to…”
“I wanted to surprise him one last time before the wedding,” Claire laughed amidst the tears that had started trickling again. “But there he was, his hands all over some woman.”
“Claire, I’m so sorry,” Amy said. “That’s messed up.”
Claire turned her head to look at her audience as if she just realized they were there.
“My poor baby,” her mom whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“The two of them have been an item for a long time. The way he looked at her, touched her, kissed her. I could tell this has been going on forever…” her voice cracked, and she started sobbing. “I can tell he’s been sleeping with her.”
“Come here,” Willow said as she put her arms around her daughter, and this time Claire didn’t resist. She led her to the living room and sat next to her on the sofa. Amy stood a few inches away.
“And he tried to tell me…” Claire started but her voice cracked again.
“Sweetheart. It’ll be okay,” Willow said as she pulled her into a hug. Claire’s shoulders rocked as she let out all her hurt and pain on her mother’s shoulder.
Eventually the shaking stopped. Claire rested her head against the velvet sofa. “Why would he do that?” she asked. “Why did he ask me to marry him if he knew he was in love with someone else? What if I hadn’t seen him this evening? Would he have left me at the altar tomorrow?”
“There is no easy answer to that, Claire,” Willow said as she smoothed her hair. “Sometimes people just do stupid things.”
“This was beyond stupid,” she said and got up. “And if anything, I was the fool!”
“No, don’t say that, Claire,” Willow said. “You know that’s not true.”
“Well, he’s the one having sex with some girl in his house, and I’m here crying over him. How does that not make me an idiot?”
“Claire, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Amy said. “You didn’t do anything—”
But Claire cut her off. “I need to be on my own for a while.”
“Yeah, sure,” Willow said quickly, and she and Amy watched Claire climb up the stairs that led to her bedroom.
Once Claire closed the door behind her, she stepped out on the little patio next to the sliding doors in her room. Usually the fresh air calmed her, and she closed her eyes, expecting the same results. When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing ahead of her, and when she closed them, she saw Trent standing in the passageway with her. She started crying again. She returned to her room as she tugged the clothes from her body and ran to the shower. She filled the bathtub with water, having every intention of letting the warmth of it soothe her sorrows. But it did little to quell the storm raging in her, and her tears were lost in the bath water. She finally got out of the tub, lay on her bed, and cried herself to sleep.
She woke hours later; a red light was flashing on her phone indicating she had new messages, but she didn’t want to talk to anyone tonight, or any night for that matter. It was probably Trent anyways, and she was never going to talk to him again.
CHAPTER 2
The wedding day came and went rather uneventfully. Thankfully, it had been a small wedding, so Claire didn’t have much to do except cancel the venue, the caterers, and the flowers, and that in itself had been nerve-wracking. In the days that followed, Claire stayed in her room, hardly paying attention to her mother and Amy. She knew they worried about her, but she was beyond caring. The way she felt, her life was as good as ended.
A few days later, Claire overheard her mom and Amy talking behind her door while she was locked in her room.
“This can’t go on,” Willow said to Amy. “She hardly eats; she looks a mess all the time, and I can’t get to her.”
“What about forcing her to open the door?” Amy asked.
“I’ve tried,” Willow said. “Her door is always locked and she doesn’t answer anyone. If anything happens to her in there, I wouldn’t even know it. I should break the damn door down.”
“Then let’s do it,” Amy said.
“Do what?” Willow asked, but before Claire could hear the response, she heard loud pounding on her door.
“Claire, if you don’t open this door I am going to break it down!” Amy yelled. “And you know I will!”
Claire reluctantly opened the door and Amy walked in. Without a word, she walked to the patio doors, pulled the curtains back, and let some sunlight in. “Okay, this has gone on long enough. I know you are hurting, but this isn’t doing you any good. Get up, take a shower, and let’s go somewhere fun.
Willow smiled sadly at her daughter. “Amy’s right. As bad as this may sound now, Trent has probably moved on while you hide out in your room and rot. I know it’s hard but you need to keep moving forward.”
“I’d rather not,” Claire said, her voice full of sorrow.
“So you want to spend the rest of your days off from work like this?”
Claire looked at her mother with hollow eyes. “What do you suggest I do, Mom? Go out and party like nothing happened?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you need to pick up the pieces and get yourself together. This isn’t doing you any good.”
“Wait, I have an idea,” Amy said as her face lit up. “I think you should go to St. Lucia.”
Claire looked at her like she was crazy. “You want me to go on my honeymoon by myself?”
“Yes, except you wouldn’t be by yourself. The three of us could
go. St. Lucia is a beautiful place, and it will be good for you to get away.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Amy,” Willow said. “And Claire, you have no excuse. Your reservation is still active. Amy and I will get our own rooms if you want privacy.”
“Mom, I can’t…”
“Claire, this is not up for discussion. Now, pack your bags and get ready. We leave in the morning.” Willow walked out of the room, leaving Claire with no choice.
“I don’t want to go,” Claire said after her mother had gone.
“You heard your mom. You know she’ll make you do it,” Amy said as she sat next to her on the bed. “I promise you’ll love it. Besides, I’ll be there to hang out with you.”
“Yeah, right! You’ll leave all those men on the beach to come hang out with me? Do you think I believe you?”
“Claire, just do as your mom says, please,” Amy said, heading toward the door. “I promise it’ll be fun.”
Long after the two had gone, Claire sat alone in her room, picturing Trent in bed with the other woman, laughing and pretending she didn’t exist. She tossed the covers back, and with anger bubbling inside her, she yanked the suitcase from the closet and started packing. Damn it, she was going to St. Lucia without Trent. Fuck him!
CHAPTER 3
It was an exciting moment for two out of the three passengers in the cab that drove along the interstate to the airport that evening. Claire stared as the outside world raced by, her thoughts doing the opposite, remaining fixated on one event.
“I bet you will love it in St. Lucia,” Willow said as she playfully poked her daughter’s ribs.
“Come on, Claire,” Amy nudged. “Blue skies, white sandy beaches, crystal clear water. That’s got to put a smile on your face.”
Claire looked at the girl with a blank expression. “Perhaps.” It was hard to imagine anything fun when hurt weighed on her like an anchor. Her entire life was drifting by, and as far as she was concerned, she was just floating into oblivion.
